


The First Cup

by Tyellas



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 16:18:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4066513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tyellas/pseuds/Tyellas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the madmaxkink meme prompt where Furiosa, set to guard the latest set of Wives, is offered a cup of tea. And one improbable act leads to so much more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Cup

She is Imperator Furiosa, one of only three, commandant of the War Rig. Cadres of War Boys and black thumbs leap at her command. On a good day, a perfect machine, as high on the precipices of the Citadel as one who is not Immortan can go.

Then Immortan Joe, from the very top, does something to kick her down that bit further.

 _Guard my treasures,_ he said. _Most trusted Imperator_ , he said. But when he sent Furiosa to be the “final defense of the Dome and the Wives”, Joe’s eyes were canny slits above the ventilator’s toothed grin.

So she has settled just inside the Vault’s vault door, armaments to hand, eyes on the locked edge. The Vault where she herself was Wived, those thousands of days ago. Even with her face guarded by Imperator’s black, and her arm-and-a-half by the ambient grime of the chop shops and downbelows, her skin remembers. The smell of guns at the ready settles her roiled guts.

After putting this year’s unfortunate beauties through a drill in case the Vault is, improbably, entered, she takes up her station. And there, she waits. And waits. The women’s conversation is a low cadence, easy to block out as she strains for any sounds of battle. But she can't not think of her first entry to this room, six thousand nine hundred and fifty six days past. And how long won't she drive, how hard won't she fight, to get far from that again? _Well played, Joe,_ she thinks, grimly.

When the day’s shadows lengthen, there’s a flurry on the other side of the Dome. Furiosa snaps around to see. But the women aren’t looking out the windows. One of them has become a standing silhouette. “I’ll do it! Let me do it!”

“Hi! Would you like some tea?” It’s the youngest one, with sleek dark hair and a nourished child’s freshness. She’s holding a ridiculous luxury, a treasure of a cup from the Before time, filled with something steaming.

Furiosa starts to open her mouth to say no. To say she needs nothing. But a tendril of fragrance curls up into her nostrils, down onto her palate. A breath of warm green.

Silently, Furiosa takes the cup in her one hand and sips.

The scent was nothing to this. Green, smooth herbs lifted by citrus and warmth. Unthinking, she says, “It’s like the tea my mothers made.”

The girl’s mouth makes a perfect O. “You had more than one mother?”

Furiosa nods.

“How do they do that?”

“It wasn’t here. I’m from…somewhere else.” Quickly, she fills her mouth with more tea.

“Is it good?” Furiosa nods again, and the girl practically dances with pleasure.

“I’m going to, I’m gonna give you something! Something even better!” She darts away and prances back, holding a shallow bowl, precious as the cup, where impossible dainties roll. “These are mine for today but you can have them! They’re sweet! We get more tomorrow.”

The skinniest, palest Wife sidles up after the youngster. “They’re called fruits, Cheedo. Grape and apricot. Fruits so we can give fruit,” the Wife says. She meets Furiosa’s eyes with her own bitter glance, and whispers, harshly, “Don’t mind Cheedo. She hasn’t had The Schlanger yet. If she’s making any trouble, tell Joe it was me. I can handle his disciplinary concepts.”

"There's no trouble," Furiosa murmurs.

The long girl leans in. "You like the tea for real? I made it."

“Wives! Remember yourselves! That’s no way to talk to an Imperator.” An old History Woman totters out of a shady corner, down onto one knee. “Imperator Furiosa. Are these women bothering you?”

It’s a relief and a loss to be addressed as Imperator again. “No. Everyone appreciates a drink.”

The History Woman bows her head. “Everyone appreciates safety. Thank you, Imperator.”

Furiosa remembers the chandelier, the pool, the light, but never such tea, and no History Woman. More luxuries for the Wives, the more desperate old Joe grows. “What…do you do?”

“I teach them, now. And I look out for them.”

Cheedo bursts out, “Miss Giddy, she’s not from here! And she had mothers, not just one mother!”

“Not from here! Then from where?”

Furiosa can tighten her mouth to a steel slot before Immortan Joe, before his wives, before the whole rest of the Citadel. But the History Woman has the waiting eyes of mothers past. “I was born in a green place.” 

“A green place. A green place _that isn’t here_. Hem! Dag, help me up. Cheedo, bring your saucer and let the Imperator sit a moment. You’re giving her more things than she has hands.”

Drawn on by this strange team, Furiosa steps warily to the cluster under the curved windows. The trio there are what the rest of the Citadel pictures when they think of the Immortan’s shiny wives. They perch on cloudy cushions around their treasures and treats, hips and bosoms full enough to curve, skin unblemished in the filtered sun. Their expressions are as flat and steeled as Furiosa’s was, five minutes past. They have, she gathers, had The Schlanger.

“My other charges. Yes, only these few, now. Toast. Capable. And The Splendid Angharad.” The History Woman softens as she smiles upon them. And Furiosa wonders: how long she will drive, how hard could she fight, to receive such a smile herself, again?

The visibly pregnant one leans forwards. “More tea?”

 _The first cup moistens my lips and throat. The second cup breaks my loneliness._ ~ Lo T'ung


End file.
